


Something Wicked...

by HanXanth



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), How Do I Tag, Idiots in Love, M/M, Musicals, My First Fanfic, No beta we fall like Crowley, Wicked - Freeform, can demons even sing?, inspired by shower thoughts, what do to when in quarantine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-03
Updated: 2020-04-03
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:54:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23465728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HanXanth/pseuds/HanXanth
Summary: Aziraphale and Crowley are stuck inside with lots of wine. As Aziraphale bemoans the fact that all the theaters are closed, Crowley comes up with a 'brilliant' idea: why not perform their own musical theater in the bookshop? Ridiculousness ensues.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 16





	Something Wicked...

**Author's Note:**

> Hello~ This is my first time every writing fanfiction for anything and sharing it with people. I would appreciate kudos, comments, and constructive criticism! Enjoy <3

“All I’m saying…” Aziraphale started. 

He stopped, the train of thought too nebulous for him to keep up with. With a sigh, he sunk further into his chair. That’s what happened when you were stuck inside with the ability to miracle up as many bottles of wine as you wanted.

“Saying wot?” Crowley asked, his serpentine body half eaten by the sofa in the backroom of the bookshop. His sunglasses were askew, and a half-full wine glass hung carelessly from his long fingers. The wine knew better than to spill though.

The two supernatural man-shaped beings had been at this for quite a while, what with London being on lock down. Crowley and Aziraphale both knew they couldn’t actually get sick or spread the disease that had quickly turned into a pandemic. But best to keep up appearances and all that.

So the two now sat, quite inebriated, in the back of Aziraphale’s shop, trying to remember what they’d been talking about.

“It was…oh, yes,” Aziraphale said, finally grabbing on to the thread of conversation, “All I’m saying, is that it’s a shame the theaters have had to close.”

“Jusssst watch the stuff on the internet, angel,” Crowley replied, waving his hand in the air like a wet noodle in an attempt to somehow gesticulate the use of the internet.

“But it’s-it’s not the same!” Aziraphale complained. “There’s the ambi- amvo- … the feeling of BEING there that you miss out on.”

Aziraphale stared sadly into his wine glass, as if hoping the light reflecting on the dark liquid would somehow turn into a masterful stage production, complete with period-appropriate costumes and a wonderfully skilled orchestra.

Suddenly, Crowley bolted up, the wine sloshing in his glass but not going over the edge.

“Let’sss you and me do it,” he said.

Aziraphale blinked. “Do what?”

Crowly waved his hands wildly, his serpentine eyes glowing yellow in excitement. “The theater. Do the theater thing. Here.”

“I’m not following.”

Crowley rubbed his face in exasperation, messing his sunglasses up even more before he finally took them off and set them on the little table. 

“Right, lemme sober up a bit for this,” He paused, thinking. “But not too much. Not sure I can do this otherwise.”

With a grimace, Crowley’s eyes cleared slightly and his body sat up a little straighter. Aziraphale followed.

“Right then,” Aziraphale said, coming out of his slouch. “What was it you wanted to do?”

Crowley grinned. “You and me, we can recreate some of the scenes from the theater. Nothin’ else to do anyway.”

Aziraphale beamed. “Oh Crowley, that’s a wonderful idea.” 

Crowley would not admit to anyone, ever, what seeing that smile on his angel did to him. And if he went out of his way to do things that brought about that smile, well, that’s nobody’s business.

“Which do you want to start with?” Crowley asked.

Aziraphale thought for a moment, running through all the theater productions they’d seen in their long lives together.

“What about Romeo and Juliet?” he suggested with a smile.

Demons do not blush. Therefore, Crowley did not blush. If anyone were to ask, he was just hot all of a sudden. “Uh… you sure about that one, angel? Little bit depressing by the end innit?”

“Oh, I suppose you’re right,” Aziraphale said sadly. Crowley didn’t miss the tone, but before he could take it back and say ‘Sure let’s do it, you wanna be Juliet or should I?’, Aziraphale perked up.

“How about we do a scene from Twelfth Night?”

Crowley grimaced. “Not that I don’t like where your mind’s at, but that’s too complicated for the two of us to handle, you know that.”

“Well fine,” Aziraphale said indignantly. “You come up with one then.”

Crowley considered for a moment. Aziraphale tended to go for the classics, but they had seen their fair share of more modern productions as well. While Aziraphale preferred refinement, Crowley preferred something a little different…

“Kinky Boots,” he said, without hesitancy.

While demons didn’t blush, angels most certainly did. As represented by the coloring of Aziraphale’s face at the suggestion. The suggestion may have been one of Crowley’s devious demonic wiles intended to get such a reaction, but who can say for sure?

“I-I’m not sure I remember much of that one,” Aziraphale replied.

This was, of course, a lie. Aziraphale had a very good memory, especially when it came to theater. However, he was more than a little nervous about seeing Crowley’s Lola. Because there was no doubt in his mind that Crowley would want to play Lola, and there was also no doubt in his mind that he would be quite unable to complete a scene, let alone a song, with Crowley looking like that.

Crowley didn’t seem to pick up on the thoughts flying through Aziraphale’s mind as he made his next suggestion: “What about Guys & Dolls?”

Aziraphale quickly reeled in his imagination before it led him too far astray. “What?”

“Guys & Dolls,” Crowley repeated. “You know, the one with the gamblers in America.”

Aziraphale switched gears, attempting his most English posture as he looked down his nose at Crowley. “Though I understand your appreciation for the aesthetic, I shall not debase myself to adopting an American accent.”

Crowley stuck out his forked tongue, but Aziraphale wouldn’t relent. So, Crowley did the next best thing with another suggestion.

“Could always go for that old classic,” he said with a sly grin. Aziraphale blinked, not liking the look. “Come on angel,” Crowley continued, “I know you know the words.” Then he broke out into a surprisingly almost-on-key falsetto as he sang, “The hills are aliiiive, with the-“

A pillow flew across the little back room, smacking into Crowley’s face and stopping him from completing the line.

“Don’t. You. Dare.” Aziraphale threatened. 

Crowley tried to stifle a giggle. Because, of course, demons don’t giggle. 

With a sigh, Aziraphale slouched back into his chair. “This isn’t going very well.”

Crowley shrugged as he put the pillow on the sofa. “When you’ve seen as many as we have, it’s hard to pick just one.”

Aziraphale nodded in agreement, letting his eyes wander in the hopes of inspiration. They followed along the spines of the nearby shelf, organized by cover color and the second letter of the author’s first name. Then his eyes fell on ‘The Wizard of Oz,’ stuck between a copy of ‘All the Green on Earth’ by Tyler Franklin and ‘The Emerald Isle’ by Rylee Murphy.

“Oh!” Aziraphale exclaimed. “What about that lovely reimagined rendition of ‘The Wizard of Oz’, the one with the two girls?”

“Wicked?” Crowley asked.

“That’s the one!” Aziraphale stood up, eagerly running through ideas in his head as he paced. It was all quite simple really. Crowley would be a perfect Elphaba, what with her tendency to wear all black and go against authority while being misunderstood. And he could play as Fiyero, the dashing love interest for Elphaba who accepts her for who she is and helps her escape persecution. It was perfect!

“Alright,” Crowley said, standing up and stretching his long limbs. “But I get Glinda.”

All the gears in Aziraphale’s mind screeched to a halt. “I’m sorry, what was that?”

“I get Glinda’s part,” Crowley said, bending down to stretch out his legs as if getting ready to run some kind of race. Aziraphale subconsciously ran through the show in his mind to see if he’d somehow forgotten any great feats of athleticism. He came up blank.

“Ah, I-I see…then, who should I be?”

Crowley looked at him as if he were being incredibly dense at this point. “Really? I figured you’d be Elphaba.”

Aziraphale was so utterly confused at this point that he could only manage a single word: “Why?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Crowley asked. “You can already defy gravity -“

“So can you.” 

“-and I don’t have the pipes for it like you do.”

That caused Aziraphale to pause. Indeed, the part of Elphaba was quite vocally intense, and being an angel, he naturally had a good singing voice. Perhaps demons lost their ability to sing when they fell? He filed that question away for another time.

“Perhaps,” Aziraphale said, “but it’s just us. It doesn’t have to sound perfect.”

Crowley shook his head. “ ’sides, I look ghastly in green.”

Aziraphale smiled at that, unable to deny Crowley’s red hair would most certainly clash with Elphaba’s green skin tone.

But he wouldn’t back down yet. “Well, could you tell me why you want to be Glinda?”

Crowley grinned, hands on his hips. “Come on angel, SHE’S the only one with any fashion sense in the entire show.”

It was such a ridiculous reason, and yet so very Crowley. Aziraphale couldn’t help the smile that broke across his face, and he acquiesced. 

The two of them gathered as many makeshift props as they could from around the book shop, miracling in only a couple things, including black sheets from Crowley’s loft and a box fan. The demon naturally went for Glinda’s blue dress rather than the pink, and Aziraphale nervously continued to tug and pull at the black outfit Crowley had put him in, his mind repeating the words ‘You look good in black, angel.’

They completed the scene with ‘Popular’ after Crowley downed a significant amount of wine so he could be considered acceptably ‘perky’. Aziraphale filed away the sight of Crowley flouncing around the bookshop like a preppy blonde for any time he needed a good laugh. And when time came for the big ‘Defy Gravity’ number, Aziraphale found himself draped in black sheets with a box fan blowing up his back side to make the sheets move. Having also consumed a great deal more wine by this point, he sang his blessed heart out in an attempt to do the part justice. If any people had been out on the streets, they would have heard something that sounded more like ghastly yelling that may have warranted a call to the police. Thankfully for all parties, no one was out and about.

And by the time the pair got to the near-finale performance of ‘For Good’, the bookshop was a mess with Crowley and Aziraphale looking similarly disheveled, their eyes bright with emotion and drink.  
So absorbed were they in their roles, that Crowley didn’t think twice as Aziraphale took up his hand as he continued the lines, having stopped actually singing some time ago.

“I do believe,” Aziraphale continued, “I have been changed for the better. And because I knew you…”

His eyes met Crowley’s, full of so much affection and love that Crowley could almost physically feel it, and they both smiled.

“Because I knew you…” Crowley continued.

Their voices met, in such perfect harmony it was almost otherworldly. “I have been changed, for good.”


End file.
